


VEGETA AND GOKU VS: THE POLITICIANS

by FelixMcKraken



Series: VEGETA AND GOKU VS: THE SERIES [1]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Dragon Ball Earth Plus Real Life Earth Equals This Mess, Gen, Goku is a Sweet Summer Child... or is he?, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Inappropriate Humor, Not Canon Compliant, Possibly Pre-Slash, Slight Vegebul, Swearing, Vegeta being Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Views of the Character Do Not Necessarily Represent the Views of the Author, politically incorrect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-22
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-25 18:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30093600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelixMcKraken/pseuds/FelixMcKraken
Summary: Vegeta and Goku. Enemies. Allies. BFFs? Follow the excursions of a "recovering" killer-for-hire and his eccentrically optimistic (and often unwanted) traveling companion which prove once again that Saiyans simply cannot stay out of trouble. Ever.In this episode... our boys take a trip to the political heartland of the United States - Washington D.C. - so that Vegeta can attempt to understand a system of government not involving a single head of state. It goes about as well as expected.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Son Goku & Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Series: VEGETA AND GOKU VS: THE SERIES [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2214306
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	VEGETA AND GOKU VS: THE POLITICIANS

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I know I missed out on Kakavege Week, but I just didn't have energy to write something brand new. So here's something a bit different from my angst laden repertoire! Most of the original material was dated so I rewrote it to have a more modern day touch. Also, I figured this edit would make it a bit more inclusive for those who couldn't care less about US politics. When I originally wrote this two decades ago, I wrote this for a friend at the time. However, now I'm writing for myself and you all. With that in mind, there's no real people here, just caricatures.

**VEGETA AND GOKU VS. THE POLITICIANS (¡REVAMPED!)  
  
** Bulma threw the remote in disgust which happened to hit Vegeta, of whom was settled next to her in bed. It naturally didn't hurt, but it did get his attention, especially coupled with the way she was punching her pillow into submission and huffing. He pulled an earbud out and let his tablet fall into his lap, "What's got your panties in a bunch?" She had turned off the television before flinging the control aside so he had no context for the outburst.  
  
"Ugh!" she exclaimed, "It's these stupid Luddites in the Brassed Button Party!"  
  
"Just don't invite them, then," he retorted.  
  
"What?" all her anger was forgotten for a moment as she tried to parse a meaning from that sentence.  
  
He explained in further detail for her benefit, "It's quite simple. If you don't like someone, don't invite them to your party. Also, I'm not going."  
  
Bulma thought - no, KNEW - a lesser human would never be able to translate what Vegeta said. It was often either athwart to what he meant, or was based on a misunderstanding. Her brilliance lead her to arrive to the conclusion, with very little conjecture, that this instance was the latter. She didn't hesitate to smack him with her now malformed pillow, "Not a party like a celebration, a party like a political party! A group of people involved in governmental affairs!"  
  
"Okay. Rude," the Saiyan commented on her behavior before moving right ahead, "And if you don't want these Luddites in the party, why don't you just tell them to leave?"  
  
"It doesn't work like that! Seriously, how can you not know what a political party is?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow and stared at her.  
  
As she stared back, an uncomfortable feeling began to swell within her. It was the one that took place when, as sharp as a soggy cardboard box full of dryer lint Vegeta appeared to be and too often was, he was preparing to show her up.  
  
The dreaded came true when he spoke next, "Oh, I'm sorry, I must have missed that during my _princely_ lessons."  
  
Right. She was talking to a literal heir to a throne who had spent a formidable amount of time serving a fascist dictator. She probably forgot that because he would watch shit like Family Feud* and do better than some of the contestants. The scientist flopped down and arranged her pillow for optimal comfort, all the while trying to save face, "Oh, c'mon. You've lived here years now. You watch tv all the time. You're really going to tell me you haven't noticed we aren't all ruled by a king?"  
  
"What do you mean 'all'? _I'm_ not ruled by anyone," Vegeta declared haughtily, "and I assumed you just, you know, used your money to make problems go away."  
  
"Wow," the buxom beauty groused, "As much fun as it would be to be an unconscionable Plutocrat, I'm gonna have to pass. I prefer to spend my time in the lab creating stuff that makes our lives better. And I'd have an easier time doing it if those Brassed Button assholes didn't politicize my science."  
  
He didn't miss how she emphasized "my science" even though she probably didn't realize she did. Vegeta still didn't get what the problem was, "So, what do you want done? If they're causing you problems, I can eliminate them."  
  
"Vegeta, no," she said firmly. "That isn't how we do things."  
  
"You always choose the most complicated ways to problem solve," the brunet scoffed. Feeling that the conversation was over, he went to put his earbud back in.  
  
Bulma reached out and grabbed onto his leg, "Yeah, it is complicated. It's also really important. You need to go up to the capital tomorrow and get a tour so you can understand how things work."  
  
"I thought West City was the capital."  
  
"Just... I'll send you coordinates on your phone."  
  
"But why would I go?"  
  
Her hand wandered higher and she gripped his inner thigh with a tight squeeze before rolling away from him and onto her side. "Why indeed," she feigned ignorance while yawning in an overly exaggerated manner.  
  
Message received, he went back to what he was watching on his tablet with a frown. At least it would distract him enough to allow him to sleep.  
  


* * *

  
 _Ping!  
  
_ The chime that came through the ear buds woke him. Bulma had insisted the tablet be linked to his phone, and probably for this precise reason. He rubbed his face and was about to sit up when-  
  
 _Ping!_ went the device again. It was unusual for Bulma to send something again so quickly. She was really good at sending an entire letter's worth of a voicemail, postscript and all. Two messages back to back just wasn't her style.  
  
 _Ping!_ a third message came in.  
  
Confused, he quickly tapped the notifications and listened to the text-to-speech with mounting dismay.

  * "Hey Vegeta"
  * "You up"
  * "I'm coming over"



That was all the warning he got before Goku was in his bedroom. "Yo! Did you get my text messages?" he asked cheerily.  
  
"You didn't give me a chance to reply!" the prince laid out his complaints, "And I didn't give you permission to enter my bedroom!"  
  
"Ehehe," the younger man released a not-so-nervous chuckle and waved his hand as some method of placation through gesture, "I had to make sure it worked ok!"  
  
"You would have known it worked okay when I replied to you!"  
  
"I guess so, but now we know for sure. Anyway, Bulma said she's making breakfast before we go out on our errand today!"  
  
"What's this 'we' crap?" Vegeta demanded to know as he slinked out of the bed and went to his dresser.  
  
"Yeah! Bulma said it's like when Gohan goes on a field trip at school, except, it's like, you play the part of Gohan and I play the part of shapparoni."  
  
Vegeta chose a specific shirt and a specific pair of pants from the array of what appeared to be identical navy shirts and pants. "The fuck! I don't need a chaperone!" he cried out indignantly, closing the drawer with such force it rattled the entire dresser. "This is some bullshit," he stated while beginning to take off his pajamas. His shirt was essentially off, crumpled around his forearms, when he froze. Goku was watching him with the same brain-dead smile he wore when he was typically occupying himself with woodland critters or whatever simplistic peasant stuff entertained him.  
  
"Hey, your face is turning red," Goku informed him helpfully.  
  
This caused it to turn red for another reason. One that Vegeta was much more comfortable disclosing, "I'm going to _slaughter_ you. I suggest leaving this room right now if you don't want me to do it now instead of later."  
  
And, as per usual, the threat upon his life was as distracting and disconcerting as water on a duck's back. "Okay, see you at breakfast!" the larger man chittered before giving a wave and teleporting away.  
  
Vegeta realized that every instant that Goku was out of his presence was another instant where he would be eating his food. "Son of a bitch," he swore under his breath as he got dressed in record time.  
  


* * *

  
The morning meal went shockingly splendid. Bulma had anticipated their appetites and subsequent greedy natures with the aplomb of an exceptionally versed consultant. She sent the coordinates to his phone as promised after she had finished her measly single plate of food.  
  
"This is sending me across the continent," he observed with a furrowed brow while shoveling another pancake into his mouth.  
  
"I know. I think it would be better for you to go to the capital of the United States." She didn't add her reasoning which was that it would likely be the easiest damage control for her if something went wrong. Being preemptive, she announced, "Oh, and I'm going to quiz you when you get back. So you better pay attention." She removed a honey baked ham from the fridge and set it next to him.  
  
It was hard to be mad at her when she deliberately placed it out of Goku's reach. He settled for mild annoyance while trying to ignore the tinge of accompanying schmaltz.  
  
"Toodle-oo, guys. I got work to do," the engineer waved facetiously, waggling her phalanges as she strolled out of the room.  
  


* * *

  
It was easy enough to find their destination. Vegeta's map application for directions essentially worked the same way the dragon ball radar did. He grumbled as it _Ping!_ ed yet again while he was flying. The voicemail that he anticipated was surprisingly curt by Bulma standards. This was more like a note passed in class in terms of length as all her message said was that she put some important documents into his photo album. It turned out the items she sent were good for getting them into Capitol Hill and onto a private tour.  
  
When they got to the chamber floor, Goku crowed, "Ohh! I get it! Congress is like a fighting arena and the political parties are like the contestants!"  
  
Embarrassed that a simpleton was grasping the concept with greater ease than an elite such as himself, Vegeta jibed, "Quiet, Kakarot. That's horribly reductionist."  
  
The female tour guide laughed with genuine mirth and agreed, "Well, the fighting is done with words, but yes. That's a rather apt analogy that I'm sure many people would agree with."  
  
"It'd probably be easier if they fought with their fists," sniffed the prince pretentiously, "It'd be much faster at the very least."  
  
The tour guide laughed pleasantly again before saying, "Speed was actually a big concern for the Founding Fathers of the nation. They intentionally designed the system to be slow-paced as a way to safeguard the methods of checks and balances and to ensure the integrity of the democratic process."  
  
"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm," Vegeta's rejoinder effectively convinced the others that he had understood the nuances of this statement. Then, he dashed that perception by flatly stating, "My female friend also complains when she balances her checkbook."  
  
"Awww," Goku interjected with a big, cheesy grin, "I think that's the first time you've called Bulma your friend!"  
  
Vegeta's face felt hot for the second time that day, "It's... It's simply a turn of phrase!"  
  
"Oh? Oh! You mean you were trying to say 'girlfriend'?"  
  
"That's not it at all!!"  
  
"That's what people say though! She's a girl, and she's your friend. She's your girlfriend! Just like you're my boyfriend!"  
  
"THAT IS NOT WHAT THOSE TERMS MEAN."  
  
The tour guide attempted to shush them, but her efforts were about as effective as spitting on a bonfire. As the two men continued to argue, she was at least able to corral them out into the hall. Here things would have theoretically gotten better if it wasn't for the fact that the president was making an impromptu visit. In the course of the argument, Vegeta ending up shoving his tall tag-along. Consequently, Goku bumped directly into George J. Drush III, President of the United States of America.  
  
Like the prevailing image of those that came before him across much of the ruling class the globe over, Drush was an elderly, white, unattractive male with severe personality defects. He compensated by being born into wealth and privilege.  
  
The poor lady that had been assigned to the duo started addressing him, "Mr. President-"  
  
"Sorry," Goku interrupted her to apologize nonchalantly, "I was just talking to my boyfriend."  
  
"You-!" Vegeta nearly blew a gasket.  
  
"I'm sorry," Drush did not sound at all sorry, "but who are you... gentlemen?"  
  
"They're members of my tour, sir," the guide was finally able to get a word in edgewise, "I was just about to show them, uh, Statuary Hall."  
  
Drush looked at the lanyards around their necks and parsed what he considered to be important data from them, "Ah. Visitors from West. I do hope you enjoy our culture of freedom and family values. We hold these sacred things close to our vests."†  
  
"I don't think I've seen anyone wearing a vest today," Vegeta declared his observation. This seemed to cause everyone present to quiet.  
  
"It's an American saying," the tour guide tried to gently clear the abruptly tense atmosphere.  
  
"Yes," Drush went on before anyone could stop him, "Perhaps it would do you some good to learn American‡ before visiting. I do hope you enjoy your stay."  
  
Vegeta didn't understand a lot about Earthlings, but he was fluent in posturing, "Yeah. I'll be sure to be fluent in Supercilious Narcissism if I ever return."  
  
There were murmurs among the president's entourage about the Saiyan's brazen and inappropriate response.  
  
"Sir," Drush bristled, "You are our guest here, and we've been nothing but cordial to you."  
  
"If your freedom and family values are anything like your cordiality, then I'd say it's really a pity that your citizens didn't commit mutually assured destruction during your civil war."  
  
Neither the president nor the prince said another word for the next few seconds. Vegeta abstained because he felt his words perfectly encapsulated his feelings on the matter, and Drush because, despite what his (paid) grades declared, it took him some time to process anything that required a modicum of critical thinking. Then the septuagenarian took his phone out of his pocket, fiddled with it a moment, and presumably took their picture. His handlers did what they could to persuade him not to, but Drush had the smug grin of someone who pissed the bed and blamed it on someone else successfully.  
  
The air oddly tasted of tin and the Saiyan monarch smacked his mouth a few times before commenting, "Something most unusual seems to be transpiring."  
  
"Here's an example of what a real defense budget will get you if you don't waste money on things like healthcare, art, and the humanities."  
  
Encircling the two aliens on the floor, bold and with serifs, was the word: CONTEMPT.  
  
Bored, Vegeta went to leave and found that an invisible barrier prevented him from doing so. If Bulma had been present she would have been able to inform him that it was a combination of controls from an Augmented Reality app, nanotechnology, and force fields. She also would have prevented the developing international incident they were now involved in.  
  
Goku, with his bizarre and mislaid sense of fairness, finally contributed, "Oh, uh. I really would appreciate it if you let us go. I'm sorry my boyfriend is kinda a meanie."  
  
"Kakarot...!" the prince growled.  
  
"Maybe we could work out some quid pro quo," Drush mused aloud, thinking himself to be clever. This type of strong-arm technique was prosaic amongst the PTO. Vegeta thought it to be a droll method, but this was also the most interesting thing an ordinary human had done to him so far. (Bulma and Kakarot's band of sycophants hardly counted as ordinary humans.) He figured it was easier in the long run to humor this so-called leader instead of dealing with Bulma's wrath.  
  
"I don't have any squids to trade for crows. Or crows to trade for squids for that matter!" Goku pouted suddenly.  
  
"Kakarot! Honestly!" the brunet fumed in agitation, "He means he will release us in exchange for goods or service."  
  
"Well, I still don't have any squids or crows," Earth's hero harrumphed a little at his helpful efforts being dismissed.  
  
"Yeah," Vegeta put on a casual air, "We don't exactly have much to our names. In fact, you could say we're refugees." He only smirked sadistically on the inside at the way Drush couldn't hide his expression of mixed surprise and disgust. "But soldiers are only good for one thing, am I right?"  
  
The sarcasm didn't penetrate Drush's figuratively thick skull, "I don't like losers."  
  
 _And yet you very obviously love yourself_ , Vegeta refrained from saying. Instead, he replied, "I find them easy enough to deal with, since I win."  
  
"There's an individual known to us for being a terrorist mastermind. He has eluded justice for several years now. Do you think you're capable of such a task?"  
  
Internally, the Saiyan prince was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, because while this fool clearly thought he had sprung a trap on them, he had actually laid one for himself. If they didn't kill (or capture - Kakarot would likely demand capture) this terrorist, then Drush would be skewered by the media for asking a foreign team of two individuals to do a work of bribery in the form of bounty hunting at best and assassination at worst. However, if they succeeded, Drush would have essentially called his whole military a bunch of losers. Also, he appreciated that the question he asked was not the one he intended. Vegeta _did_ think he was capable of being a terrorist mastermind that would elude justice. He figured it was best to not share that with anyone and sealed the deal instead, "Remove your restraints and I will solve your terrorist problem within a day."  
  
Drush laughed at the perceived audacity for such an impossible task, "By all means." He repeated the motions on his phone and CONTEMPT vanished along with the strange, metallic flavor in the air.  
  
"Come, Kakarot," Vegeta turned on his heel and began striding away, "We have another errand to run."  
  


* * *

  
To placate the other warrior's discontent, Vegeta bought them some food to snack on from a street vendor.

Our dastardly anti-hero was mulling over their situation while Goku ate with gusto. First things first. Vegeta waited for the vendor to be clear of customers before laying out his question, "Hey, who is the most famous terrorist in the world right now?"  
  
The guy gave him a funny look, "...Is this for a tv show or something?"  
  
"No," Vegeta told him calmly, plainly.  
  
Still unsure, the man-just-trying-to-make-a-living hesitantly answered accurately, "...Wesley Ben Leighton."  
  
"Your information is valuable to me," Vegeta found it much easier to be polite to random strangers, "and your food is quite good."  
  
"Thank you!" Goku contributed after licking his fingers.  
  
Having more work to do, Vegeta bought several more kebabs so that he could do research on his phone while keeping his compatriot distracted. Lucky for him, the nearby park had a playground, so when this phase of... whatever they were doing... was taking too long, Goku was able to entertain himself.  
  
Everyone had a weakness in some form or fashion. This Leighton character was no different. Vegeta laughed at how easy it would be.  
  
"Kakarot!" he just had to share the new intel he had gathered, "Get a load of this! He has an obsession with the Ford Motor Company. Like, an unhealthy one. Like, he's a mechanophile and Fords are his top fetish."  
  
Choosing to ignore every part he didn't understand, Goku added to the conversation, "..."  
  
Vegeta sighed in exasperation, "Look, we'll lure him out to the ocean with Ford Mustang GTs."  
  
"And then?" Goku asked because he was not following in the slightest.

"Then we let Aquaman finish him off and we take the credit," he unveiled his scheme with satisfaction.  
  


* * *

  
"Okay, that was the last one," the brunet said as he leapt over a boulder where Goku was crouched on the other side. This action wasn't for shelter from the elements, but for the purpose of being out of line of sight. Vegeta, having done nothing explicitly tactical in so long, was giddy, "This is like motherfucking Hansel and Gretel, except instead of bread crumbs we're substituting with twenty thousand dollar vehicles. And instead of a gingerbread house, we're going to use an ocean. And there's no way in Hell we're going to get burnt alive." He looked at Goku who looked back at him with attentive, puppy dog eyes, "Well, there's no way in Hell _I'm_ going to get burnt alive."  
  


* * *

  
Inside a local domicile - local in the sense to the position of the Saiyans - a peon addressed his highest-upper, "Sir, all these Ford Mustang GTs just showed up."

"What?" Leighton thought he was being pranked, "What do you mean they just showed up?"

"They appeared out of seemingly nowhere," the expendable lackey handed over his report, "We thought it may be a trap, but there was literally nothing our instruments or sources had that could explain this. It's like they materialized into existence."

Leighton clasped his hands together and praised, "Thank you, God! Thank you, God! My prayers have been answered! Let this be a lesson to everyone that the righteous will be rewarded! I'm going to partake of this bountiful gift from the Lord Jesus. Go back to your wheels, and one day, you too shall be blessed!"

"Amen," the low ranked officer repeated by reflex.

On the outside world, it was only a few minutes before the peeking Saiyans caught sight of their target.

"It looks like he's... yes... yes...! He's going for the red one!" the prince was on the verge of boasting about his calculations. The moment immediately passed when the terrorist began caressing the vehicle in a wholly lewd manner. "OH END PERMIAN," Vegeta cried out at what happened next, and he quickly covered Goku's eyes. He had not thought his cunning plan all the way through.  
  
"Vegeta?" Goku innocently questioned.  
  
"Just... Just go make sure the others don't get away. I'll take care of Leighton."  
  
"Okay!"  
  
Luckily, Goku was single-minded enough that not even a man fornicating with an automobile was a distraction from his mission. Vegeta envied the ability to look away from such vile debauchery. The only silver lining was that he was going to literally catch someone with their pants down.  
  


* * *

  
Victorious, Goku exited the hideout in search for his partner in dirty work. "Vegeta!" he shouted while slaloming between cars, "Guess what! He's got them running around like hamsters. They're living off of hamster power." He stumbled upon his prince, "Hey, what happened?"

The proud leader of their warrior race sat with his head in his hands. He eventually gathered his thoughts and looked up, "I didn't know what else to do, but this feels like more of a punishment for me than for him." He gestured with his thumb a few meters away where Leighton was tied up using safety belts. Vegeta's handiwork ensured he was completely immobile, but muffled sounds came from the prone figure. "Let's go get this over with," he stood, frowning. It wasn't fun anymore. People never ceased to rain on his parade.  
  
"Okkie dokkie!" Earth's savior wanted to be home in time for dinner anyways. He slung Leighton over his shoulder, grasped Vegeta's hand, and teleported them back to Drush.  
  


* * *

  
Bulma was taking a coffee break when a theme of articles popped up across her news feed. Intrigued, she opened an accredited source to get more details on the rather simplistic headline: Wesley Ben Leighton Captured. The video featured the words Breaking News before a news anchor began their report.  
  
"Wesley Ben Leighton, the person responsible for planning and perpetrating several terrorist attacks, including the Bowling Green Massacre, was captured today by independent operatives working on behalf of the United States executive branch. Here with more is Kathy Johnson live. Kathy?"  
  
"Thanks, Brad. I'm here on Pennsylvania Avenue in front of the White House where we've been told that sometime within the last two hours Wesley Ben Leighton was taken into custody. From what sources have confirmed, two men of indefinitive citizenry took it upon themselves to locate, subdue, and deliver Leighton directly. Although it has since been substantiated that they are _not_ US citizens, which may explain their unorthodox approach to bypassing certain procedures and delivering such a wanted criminal through improper channels. Furthermore, coordinates to Leighton's compound were relayed, and US military officers in conjunction with local authorities have authenticated the information. The following raid found 59 individuals incapacitated and restrained. They have since been taken into custody. Not much is known at this time as to the details to Leighton's initial capture since the White House Press Secretary has not yet released an official statement. We expect more to emerge as the story develops."  
  
"Thanks, Kathy. We've been informed that these two men, these foreign agents, are attempting to leave at this moment. Could you take us there?"  
  
There was a heavy moment of silence while the media employees worked behind the scenes. Kathy's voice returned while the camera was fixated on the front doors, "Brad, as you can see the situation unfold here, it appears there is some sort of tension or disagreement taking place-"  
  
"WOULD YOU STOP CALLING ME THAT?!" the shorter one erupted, his face visibly flushed even from a distance, "WE ARE NOT BOYFRIENDS!"  
  
"But you're my boyfriend!" the taller one retaliated.  
  
"Gentlemen," some unfortunate guy tried to calm the atmosphere, "If we could just return inside and to the matters at hand-"  
  
The brunet looked directly at him and said, "No. Do I look like I will entertain your bureaucratic balderdash? Today I was detained against my will, essentially dared into capturing a notorious terrorist, and witnessed the full perversions of said terrorist in person. There is nothing you could say or do that would make me endure any more of your vapid red tape." While some guards had shifted to bodily block him from moving, he simply... walked through them. As in, they very clearly tried to prevent him from passing, but it was as effective as a fly stopping a Peterbilt truck on the highway. Once his attention wasn't focused on the people behind him, he was able to notice the people in front of him.  
  
Bulma watched as Vegeta processed the news crews and said, "Nope. Fuck this shit, I'm out." He reached back and grabbed a hold of Goku's gi before he launched them into the sky faster than the human eye could follow.  
  


* * *

  
"Vegeta?" Goku called out when they were far enough away that Vegeta felt he didn't have to drag him anymore.  
  
"What!?" the prince snapped back.  
  
"I had a good time today. Thanks for inviting me out on a date."  
  
"YOU LITTLE SHIT-!"  
  
"We should do it again sometime!" he happily declared before waving goodbye and transmitting back to his house.  
  
"I WILL MURDER YOU!" Vegeta screamed into the empty air, "I WILL FEED YOU YOUR OWN LIVER LIKE SOME TWISTED VERSION OF PROMETHEUS! UGH! KAKAROT, YOU ARE THE WORST!!"  
  


**Author's Note:**

> *I loved Family Feud and game shows in general as a kid. There's no actual Family Feud hate here.  
> †This phrase is used to show that Drush is flubbing common idiomatic expressions.  
> ‡American is not a language in this universe either.


End file.
